


The Family That Slays Together

by PhantomWriterAnon



Series: The Family That Slays Together, Stays Together [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha Hannibal, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Attempted Sexual Assault, BAMF Will Graham, Child Death, Established Relationship, Hannibal Loves Will, Hannibal is a Cannibal, Insecure Will Graham, M/M, Men Crying, Mpreg, Murder Family, Murder Husbands, Omega Will Graham, Protective Hannibal, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Suicide Notes, Will Knows, Will Loves Hannibal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 21:32:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9787931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomWriterAnon/pseuds/PhantomWriterAnon
Summary: This wasn't how it was supposed to be. A father was not supposed to bury their daughter. But that is exactly what Will and Hannibal find themselves doing on a rainy Monday morning - burying their angel in a shallow grave behind their home, drenched in her blood and praying that the rain hid their tears.Jack Crawford had put a bullet into their daughter's skull, and for that, Jack Crawford would die.





	

Hannibal is halfway through preparations for that night’s feast when the front door creaks open. He doesn’t bother to look up – the scent of fruity herbal tea, honeysuckle, rainfall, and menstrual blood could only belong to his middle daughter, the lone omega of the brood: Pandora.

It takes a moment for the unfamiliar, yet distinct copper tang of blood to flood his nostrils – blood that is most certainly _not_ Pandora’s.

Slowly, he lowers the knife to the cutting board, taking care to wipe his hands on his apron as he studies the young woman that stood, frozen, in the foyer. Pandora is trembling, her eyes downcast and her dirty blonde hair concealing her face like a curtain. He waits for her to speak, but she remains stubbornly silent, awaiting Hannibal’s move.

A moment passes, then he approaches her.

She’d taken a shower, but even so, he could smell the boy on her from a full five feet away. As he draws closer, her trembling seemed to ease, the alpha’s scent a source of comfort to an omega in extreme distress. Without a word, he draws her into his arms and squeezed her as tight as he dared. Pandora chokes back a sob and melts into his arms.

“What is his name?” He asks, voice scarcely above a whisper. Pandora keens and a shiver chases down her spine – in lieu of answering, she burrows herself deeper into Hannibal’s arms.

Before Hannibal can attempt to coax an answer from the distressed omega, the front door bursts open and the metallic scent of copper grows infinitely stronger. His eldest steps into their home, her own scent buried beneath the layer of gore caked on her ivory skin. “It’s done.”

Hannibal looks between the two - Pandora sobbing anew in his arms, Mischa brandishing a bloody knife from her sweatshirt pocket - and asks, “Where is the body?”

“I told you not to kill him!” Pandora screams suddenly, glaring at her elder sister.

Mischa scowls, “And what the hell was I supposed to do? That wussy ass little scratch wasn’t gonna stop him from trying to touch you again!”

“I’m not some helpless little omega that you need to rescue all the time!”

Judging by the healthy amount of blood splatter on Pandora’s t-shirt, it hadn’t been a ‘wussy ass little scratch’. Pandora had been taking self-defense lessons with Will since she’d first presented, in preparation for the unfortunate reality that some alphas simply didn’t understand that ‘no’ meant _no_. Most likely, she’d incapacitated him well enough… and Mischa had gone above and beyond, wanting to teach him a lesson.

Hannibal finds himself wishing that he’d been the one to end the miserable bastard’s life, but stifles the budding resentment in favor of asking once again, “Where is the body?” His voice is firmer this time, and both girls keen at the tone of it.

Mischa swallows hard, suddenly feeling very small. “It’s in the trunk.”

“You brought it home with you?” Hannibal’s disapproval is clear, and Mischa bows her head, lowering her eyes submissively.

“I… I panicked, okay? I wanted to make sure that Pandora was alright, but I couldn’t just leave him there after… well, you know…”

“Go upstairs and take a shower. You reek of death.” It is an order, and it leaves no room for dissent. Mischa shuffles away, leaving a gruesome trail of red behind her. After a moment, Hannibal turns his attention to Pandora, “Tell me what happened.”

Pandora obeys, as he expected she would. An alpha boy had cornered her in the gymnasium after their co-ed gym class, lured by the scent of fresh blood that accompanied a fertile omega just outside of heat. He’d been in a rut, and had tried to forcibly claim her. Pandora had managed to slash his left pec with her pocket knife, but the wound had only made him angry.

He’d been preparing to strike her when Mischa had come up from behind and slit the boy’s throat. At the sight of so much blood, Pandora had panicked and begun to exhibit distress pheromones, which had drawn unwanted attention to their current predicament. Mischa, desperate to not be discovered, had dragged the body out the emergency exit and into the parking lot, before stuffing it into the trunk.

“What about the actual crime scene – were there any witnesses? Did you leave any sort of evidence behind?” Hannibal asks.

Pandora looks uncertain, “I don’t know. Disposing of the evidence was Mischa’s job. But she wasn’t… wasn’t that bloody at school. I’m sure of that much.”

Hannibal nods, before releasing his daughter and returning to the kitchen. Setting the cut of meat in the refrigerator, he turns and retrieves two bottles of industrial-strength bleach, an unopened box of gloves, two plastic tarps, and a locked, metal box.

Pandora studies him carefully, waiting to receive instructions. There is a pause, then Hannibal retrieves a key from around his neck and unlocks the box, displaying a wide assortment of grizzly weapons. All are kept in immaculate condition, especially considering their main purpose… He hands her a vial of fluoroantimonic acid crystals and smiles.

“We will handle this, darling.” Hannibal assures her softly, “Everything is going to be alright.” Then he closes the cabinet door and grabs the keys to Mischa’s Blazer on the way out the front door.

\--

There is literally blood _everywhere_. Hannibal feels disappointment stir within him: he’d taught his girls better than this. But then, he knew it would be wrong to expect absolute perfection from the first kill. Practice makes perfect, or so they say.

He rolls up his shirt sleeves and dons a pair of gloves, before handing the box to Pandora and motioning for her to do the same. Then, carefully, they set out the tarp and weighed down the sides with a few large stones that lined their driveway. Not wanting to waste any more time, Hannibal approaches the body and grabs the head and shoulders, instructing Pandora to grab the feet.

The boy’s head lolls backward as he is transferred from the trunk to the tarp – apparently, Mischa had nearly decapitated him when she’d slit his throat earlier. Pandora is crying by the time his mutilated body hits the ground, but Hannibal has already moved onto the next stage of their plan. He hands her the key to the shed and instructs her to get a bucket and mix half a container of Karcher multipurpose cleaner with water.

When she returns, bucket in hand, Hannibal has opened the vial and is whacking it with a hammer, sprinkling an ample amount of acidic crystals over the boy’s body. Pandora watches a moment, a mixture of awe and horror on her face, before she turns her attention to the trunk.

She’d just started to scrub when Hannibal asks for the second time, “What is his name?”

Pandora stills, about to begin scrubbing blood from the off-white upholstery. She is quiet for several moments before she whispers, “Myles… Myles Crawford.”

“Special Agent Jack Crawford’s son?”

“Yes.”

She waits a moment for Hannibal to speak again, but when he remains silent, the only sound that of the hammer constantly pounding against the plastic vial, she returns to her task. The chemical cleanser is hard on the faux leather upholstery, eating holes through the material instead of drawing out the stains – but it removes the evidence all the same, and the small fee to have the trunk reupholstered is of no concern.

When he is finished, Hannibal removes his gloves and tosses them into the acidic mixture, before donning a new pair to remove the rocks and roll the tarp. He transfers the body to the asphalt, removes the second tarp, and uses it to line Mischa’s trunk.

His daughters had murdered an FBI agent’s son in cold blood. He is caught between being impressed and absolutely terrified.

Before, when he’d donned the persona of the Chesapeake Bay Ripper, it had been just his life at stake. Even if Will knew of his secret, he hadn’t aided him in any way – he was still essentially innocent. But now… now his daughters were involved, and an act of self-preservation had turned into a brutal nightmare that neither would be able to wake from.

It is unlikely that Pandora was unaware that an omega could be put to death for killing an alpha under _any_ circumstances, even if those circumstances were self-defense.

Mischa emerges from the house, dark chocolate curls in a messy bun atop her head and chocolate eyes reflecting a fear that had been absent previously as Hannibal finishes discussing the plan, “…we will bury the body, and the acid will take care of the remains.”

“How long do we have until Mr. Crawford realizes something is wrong?” Mischa asks.

Pandora fidgets uncomfortably, “Not long enough. I doubt this would be the first place he’d investigate, though.”

Mischa checks her phone, “School let out a little over three hours ago. Provided he’s not working a case, Mr. Crawford should be headed home to an empty house right about now.” She looks between her father and sister, “Pan’s right. We don’t have time to -,”

Hannibal, though loathe to be rude in any respect, cut Mischa off to ask, “Did you clean up the crime scene at the school?”

“I… What?” And then all of the color drains from her face, “Fucking _shit_.”

“Take care of it.” He shoves a bottle of bleach into her hands, as well as a pair of gloves and a scrubbie. “I doubt that I need to remind you of the potential consequences of leaving an evidence trail.”

She takes the Bentley, as the Blazer is currently otherwise occupied. Once he is sure Pandora understands the specifics of their plan, he has her help him to load the rapidly deteriorating body into the trunk, along with the rest of their supplies. Rich, mocha skin had begun to steam and char, looking like a fragile piece of paper that had just recently been lit on fire.

It is only after Pandora shuffles into the passenger seat, trembling slightly from the macabre excitement of it all, that she shoots a gaping hole into Hannibal’s elaborate plan, “Daddy?”

“Yes, my darling?” They are speeding down the highway, headed for the desert.

“How are we going to explain the bloody tracks in the foyer to Papa?”


End file.
